


Those Left Behind

by Kestrelcadiz (CeNedraRiva)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2018-05-19 03:56:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5952772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeNedraRiva/pseuds/Kestrelcadiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Halloween had been an unpleasant day for Petunia Dursley of late. How did you ignore magic on a day children dressed up as witches? And now there are owls in the news and strange fireworks at night, and a foreboding feeling that something isn't right...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This work is disclaimed.
> 
> This is a oneshot and there will be no direct sequel.

 

 

* * *

Halloween night had been a particularly unpleasant day for Petunia Dursley in recent years. She found it just impossible to ignore the existence of her sister on Halloween, and Petunia did not want to be reminded of her sister, thank you very much!

She would be walking along with Dudley just to pick up some groceries, or to visit the post office, and she would spot a crate of pumpkins sitting by the door, on sale, ideal for making a traditional autumn stew. Or a string of paper bats, perfect decoration for a Halloween party, which were all the rage on Privet drive right now. Or, worst of all, witch costumes. Petunia would just press her lips tightly, and try to ignore them, but it was harder to ignore the memories they stirred up.

When Dudley was placed to bed, and she went downstairs to sit with Vernon, and maybe work on her crochet, she couldn't forget how Lily was _one of them._ That magic was _real_. And then she would start up some mindless chatter on what she saw the neighbours doing, or how well Dudley was doing with his words today, and Vernon would smile, and nod in the right places and get all properly indignant when she told him that she had spotted Mrs Clancy sneaking in earlier looking all dishevelled and jittery, and did Mr Clancy know?

Vernon knew just how stressed she got at Halloween. She saw him glancing at her sometimes, and he would look about to speak but then he wouldn't. Vernon was so good to her. But then as they lay in bed, and she heard him begin to snore, her mind would drift with nothing to distract it, and suddenly she would remember that time Lily sent her a teary letter about how Severus had called her something or rather after she had defended him from some bullies. She had been distraught over losing him as a friend, and how had she not noticed him growing so cruel? Petunia had been fuming on Lily's behalf, and how had that sullen boy seen fit to attack her sister for an act of kindness?

Or that time when they were both little and were talking about what they wanted to be when they grew up. Lily had wanted to be a pilot one day, and a doctor the next. And some days they would wistfully think of what it would be like to be an actual princess, like Cinderella.

Petunia would smile to herself, lost in those happier memories of her little sister. They had been so close then, always looking out for each other, and Petunia would resolve to send Lily a letter, reconcile.

But then she would shake her head, because it was no use. They were too far apart, too much had been said in anger to resolve. Her sister was a different person now.

* * *

It was when she popped out to the butchers that she noticed something odd. A woman wearing some old fashioned dress and a fancy cloak was sitting at the bus stop and waving cheerfully at every passerby. Petunia just shook her head. It was probably a partygoer who slept over, the night before had been Halloween. Nothing to do with her sister, or magic.

Later as she walked down the high street with Dudley's stroller she saw four owls go overhead. Her eyes widened at the sight of the envelopes they carried. She swallowed. Surely it must be a coincidence? Petunia hurried straight home after that.

Even so, her eyes wandered, and she noticed the people whispering in brightly coloured cloaks, and the overabundance of owls in the air. It was all in her mind, she knew. Induced by stress from the weeks up until Halloween, most likely. Only the other month was an article about stress in her favourite magazine. She was certain it was nothing to do with her sister.

When she got home, she continued to not think about her sister, and set to preparing Dudley something to eat. By the time Vernon returned home she had pushed the matter to the back of her mind. Young people always dressed funny around Halloween after all, and owls had to line their nests with something. In fact, letters were probably quite warm. Nothing to do with her sister and her lot. And if there was even the slimmest chance that it was to do with her sister, then it still would be no matter to Petunia herself.

When her dear Vernon did arrive home she noticed he seemed worried. Of course he was trying to hide it, but they had known each other for years and he had never been that good at acting. Still, she wouldn't bring it up if he didn't want her to. Instead she set about making him as comfortable as possible. If it was important, he would mention it, if it wasn't then at least he was relaxed now.

She liked to think of them as a good couple. They looked after each other, partners. Vernon would work and bring in money, while she looked after the house and Dudley. And when he got home she would help him relax and wind down from his hectic job. During times like Halloween he would distract her by bringing home flowers, or buying an expensive dinner. They supported each other. And tonight he was so worried. It was her duty to not make him anymore so.

It was after dinner, as she sat down to watch the last of the weather that he spoke up.

"Er – Petunia, dear – you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"

Petunia froze. Of all the things for him to worry about, and just after Halloween-

She gave him a sharp look.

"No. Why?"

Vernon looked acceptably contrite, looking back to the weather report. He mumbled nervously as he spoke next.

"Funny stuff on the news. Owls... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today..."

"So?" she snapped back.

"Well, I just thought... maybe... it was something to do with... you know... _her_ crowd."

Petunia regarded her husband as she drank her tea. She maintained her glare even as she felt a shiver down her spine. It hadn't been just her who noticed? Owls, funny clothing, shooting stars. Maybe she was wrong, maybe it was the wizards, maybe-

But no, even then it was nothing to do with her. And Vernon should know better than to bring up Lily. Strange things always happened at Halloween.

"Their son – he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"

"I suppose so,"

"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"

"Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."

"Oh yes. Yes, I quite agree."

Vernon seemed to have nothing more to add, so they dropped that uncomfortable subject and Petunia left to prepare for bed. Still he was acting odd though, almost jumpy. And his face had gone so pale when she mentioned the name Harry. Once more she forced the subject from her mind. The Potters led their lives and she her own. Nothing would change that, and in a few weeks she could forget Halloween as she prepared for Christmas. Things would be fine.

Yet, she couldn't shake the foreboding feeling that something big had happened.

* * *

Petunia liked to wake early. At this time of year it was still dark outside but for a pale blush to the east, and the house was always so quiet. She would look to her Vernon as he slept, or little Dudley, her angelic boy and remind herself how lucky she was. Down in the kitchen she would make tea and look out over her garden as the sky lightened and set the frost to glitter like gems on her roses. Sometime during the production of breakfast she would hear Vernon turn on the shower and she brought Dudley downstairs to sit at the table. It was as Vernon sat down to eat with the morning radio playing that she left to collect the paper and the milk from the doorstep.

She opened the door and shrieked.

Sitting on the step, right beside the milk and paper was a basket.

Inside the basket was a baby.

A baby, who just now woke up and looked at her with huge green eyes. Petunia gasped. They were just like Lily's eyes. And the hair was black like Potters'. But it was the lightning bolt scar that drew her attention. It looked fresh, maybe a day old, and cut down most of the child's forehead. She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Vernon peering from the kitchen.

"Petunia?"

"Vernon," she gasped out. "Come here, its – oh, Vernon what should we do?"

He walked up, resting an arm around her waist, his expression stony. Quietly he regarded the baby, which yawned, and settled down to sleep again. In the process, it pulled down a blanket corner exposing one half of an envelope.

"Um – we must bring it inside at least, before the neighbours see. A frosty morning is no place for a baby."

"The envelope..."

"Will likely tell us who this is, or at least why they were left here, of all places."

She nodded, already moving to get the basket inside. The baby yawned again, and her lips tightened at the sight of teeth. That would put the baby at about the same age as Dudley, like Lily's boy. But no, it couldn't be...

Petunia shook her head as she placed the basket on the table. Even if she had changed a lot since they were girls, Lily would never leave a baby outside like that, or let one be injured. It was just a coincidence that this child reminded her so much of them.

"The letter. It's addressed to you,"

He held it out. It was made of some sort of heavy paper, her name written on it in purple ink. She took it, turning it over. The back was sealed by a blob of red wax, imprinted with some kind of coat of arms involving an ornate D, and something that greatly resembled a bumblebee. Carefully she slid it open, and unfolded the letter inside. It was also handwritten, in the same purple ink. Taking a deep breath, she began to read.

_To Ms Petunia Dursley nee Evans_

_It is with my deepest sympathies that I write to enlighten you of the events two nights past._

_For the past many years, the wizarding world has been at war against the Dark Lord Voldemort and his followers. The Potters were one family targeted by this group, and spent the past year in hiding to protect their newborn son._

_But, it appears, their location was betrayed and on Halloween night the Dark Lord himself attacked their home. The events of the night are unclear, but neither Lily nor James survived. Young Harry was found amidst the wreckage._

_Fortunately, it appears that during the struggle, the Dark Lord fell, and his followers have scattered. But still I worry for Harry's safety. As the last of the Potters, he will likely be a target of those that remain, so I have decided that for his own safety, it is best he remain hidden. And the Muggle world is really the last place anyone would look._

_I entrust to you Harry's care until he is of legal age. I have woven protective wards around your home that will last until such time. He has a place reserved at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, and will board there from age eleven, returning to live with you every summer._

_Sincerely, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

Petunia didn't notice the letter fall from her hands. She barely heard Vernon's gentle inquiries. There was just one thought circling in her mind.

Her sister was dead.

An entire family, destroyed. Her baby boy left alone and orphaned in the wreckage. Victims of some sort of terrorist group, some dark lord.

Her sister was dead.

Never to laugh, or sing, or talk to her again. Never to dance in the garden, red hair flowing, the flowers themselves seeming to dance with her. Never to complain heatedly about that boy who betrayed her trust when she defended him. Never to smile and hug her again, to forgive the distance that had grown between them.

Her sister was dead.

The baby in the basket – Harry – was staring at her. Big, brilliant green eyes, glowing almost as if they were lit from within. Eyes a green that surely couldn't be produced without magic in the blood. Lily's eyes, staring from an unfamiliar face. So serious in their regard of her, not like the bemusement present on the faces of other babies.

Her sister was dead.

Petunia didn't notice when tears began to run down her cheeks, when Vernon started rubbing her arms, murmuring reassuring words. She didn't notice when he slipped the letter from in front of her, to scan over it himself.

Her sister was dead.

And all she had was a letter. A single letter, from someone she didn't know, to tell her these facts, days after it happened. Not even told in person. No one to question, no one to yell at, nothing. Just an expected responsibility, no choice. She was ignored, disregarded as unimportant by these people. She had heard the word before, Muggle, but for the first time it sounded like an insult, a derogatory word to describe her lesser status compared to them.

Her sister was dead.

* * *

She came back to herself what felt like hours later. In front of her was a cup of tea, still warm. She picked it up, taking a grateful sip, despite it being too sweet. Her cheeks still felt damp, and her eyes itched. Her throat felt like she had tried to swallow an orange whole. The tea helped.

Across from her sat Dudley, in his high chair. He was grinning widely and gurgling as he spread apple sauce, his breakfast, across the table. Harry had sat up, still inside his basket, and was looking around the room. He seemed fascinated by Dudley in particular and even reached out a hand to try and help spread the apple sauce.

Looking around she saw her Vernon, squinting hopelessly at the tub of formula, two empty bottles beside him. She smiled. Even now he was looking after her.

Standing, she made her way over to him, taking the tub from his hand. He smiled back at her gratefully.

Once the bottles were made up, and given to their respective recipients, she sat back at the table besides Vernon, and together they gazed at the last of the Potters.

"I called in, told them not to expect me at work today." Vernon spoke.

Petunia nodded.

The silence stretched for a moment.

"What I hate the most about this situation, is that he left no way to contact him. What if we had questions? Concerns? Does he expect us just to accept this and do as he bid?"

She grimaced. "They're wizards, Vernon. They think that muggles are simple creatures with no free will of their own, who still run witch burnings. Likely they didn't think we had opinions to cross."

"That's outrageous! Prejudice like that in this modern age? Against people just because they lack magic?"

"I know, Vernon. But they always say that power corrupts the soul, don't they? And magic is a kind of power."

He sighed, shaking his head.

"It always seemed so unreal, Pet. I saw your sister using magic, and that sullen boy who used to follow her around, but as soon as they were gone it was as if it never happened. And now..."

Petunia sniffled. It had always seemed unreal to her too. She spent most of the year away, and during the summer was the ban against underage magic. The only magic she ever saw was the accidental kind. Lily might as well have been going to a regular boarding school if it wasn't for the stories. Strange stories, with mythical creatures and spells and hexes. Tales about pranks in potions class, and divination. Several near scrapes and activities that were probably safer than they sounded. More like some great adventure than school.

That whole world was glittering, and filled with dangers Lily never saw, that Petunia was never in reach of. Even less so after their fights.

And now Lily was lost, permanently to the dangers of magic. Killed by a mad man even as she hid.

"My little sister. My lily." She cried. "I – I was supposed to l-look after her. Keep her safe." She sniffed.

"Petunia..."

"No. This is my fault. I failed. L-let her go to that school. She used to listen to me, Vernon. If I had told her it was dangerous she would have hesitated, I could have stopped her. She would never have gotten into this mess."

"It is not your fault, Pet!"

"It is!"

"You know it isn't!" He sounded stern now. "She was a witch, Petunia. A magic user. You said it yourself, power corrupts the soul. She made all her own choices."

Petunia said nothing. Of course Lily had made her own choices, but that didn't stop her from being influenced. It was the allure of magic calling her, tempting her, and her older sister failed to point out the risk. She saw only the glitter, and missed the blades.

But Lily's son still had a chance.

"We have to keep Harry safe."

Vernon blinked at her, confusion evident.

"It's the magic. It corrupted her, and it will corrupt him too, if we let it."

"Pet?" She didn't answer except to stare at Vernon. Eventually he nodded. "He can live in the second bedroom as he grows up. With any luck, he and Dudley will be like brothers."

* * *

It was as they were assembling the spare cot that Vernon spoke again.

"Do you think he's a wizard too?"

"There's a possibility."

"If he is then wouldn't they tempt him the same way they did with your sister? All tricks and light shows."

"Probably."

"So how exactly would we prevent him from being corrupted?"

Petunia swallowed nervously.

"I – I don't think we should tell him about magic."

"Petunia..."

"Vernon, it makes sense. Wizards don't interfere with muggles, and these criminals are wizards. I was safe. Lily wasn't."

"So lie to the boy? What would happen if he starts doing magic accidentally? You always said strange things happened around Lily when you were young."

"Well, remember the Beechams? They trained their son to stop biting by disciplining him each time he did."

"Discipline the boy for using magic?" Vernon nodded. "I admit, that could work."

Silence fell, except for the creak of the wooden frame as Vernon adjusted the cot. Petunia left to find the spare bed linens and pillows, before returning to furnish the cot. Together they stood back to look at the cot, painted white wood and mint green sheets.

"We're going to keep Harry safe, aren't we?"

"Yes Pet. I believe we are."


End file.
